


Bound

by mahbecks



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Felileth Week, Introspection, Mild Language, Mostly Canon Compliant, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25360624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbecks/pseuds/mahbecks
Summary: Soulmates, Felix decided, were stupid.He didn't want someone tethered to him like that, someone sharing the other half of his soul. It was a weakness, a liability - cut them down, and he would fall as well.Luckily for Felix, it wasn’t a problem he’d had to deal with thus far. Though he'd come of age, he'd yet to feel another's joy, or their pain as acutely as he felt his own.And then the professor had fallen off a cliff.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 132





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Felileth Week, Day 7 - Soulmate AU
> 
> I am weak for Soulmate AU's, let me tell you - give me all the tropes.
> 
> In this iteration, soulmates don't have identifying marks. Instead, they feel another's pain/pleasure/strong emotions.
> 
> (me to me: then why didn't you write super intense, touchy-feely porn instead of THIS
> 
> also me to me: I wrote what I wrote, dammit)

Soulmates, Felix decided, were stupid.

Maybe he’d thought differently when he was younger. Maybe he hadn’t found the topic so odious, so difficult to engage with when it came up in conversation. If he was telling the truth, he couldn’t remember; so much had happened since that fateful day when his father had sat him and Glenn down in his study to explain the concept. So much had changed.

“Soulmates, like crests, are a hallmark of the blood flowing through your veins,” his father had intoned, quiet and serious. “Like calls to like, and so your soul will cry out to another’s. You will share their triumphs and their joys - and their pains, their sorrow.” 

Glenn had been captivated, obsessed with chivalry and fairy tales and knighthood as he was. The concept of a soulmate, one person meant for him and him alone, must have seemed terribly romantic.

He’d been so eager as they’d gotten older, so intent upon finding his soulmate.

He’d never gotten to meet them. He’d died defending Dimitri instead. 

Maybe that was when the entire thing had soured for Felix. Glenn, full of life and love, had died young, without getting to experience so much that he’d wanted to do, all that he’d wanted to accomplish. Glenn, the favorite, the _heir,_ the golden child - gone, in an instant, as if he’d never been.

But Felix had survived - Felix, who’d never been overly enamored with the idea of sharing his soul with another person, who’d never wanted to be the heir, who’d never had much of a plan for his life other than “get stronger” and “keep fighting”.

Felix would get to experience that one day. He would get to know what that felt like.

It wasn’t fair. 

Nothing ever was.

His time thus far at Garreg Mach had done nothing to change his opinions. If anything, they’d only further solidified in his mind, the lessons on how soulmates related to crests heightening the disdain he felt. 

“A soulmate is not just a partner,” Hanneman explained one day during a seminar on crest magic. “Nor are they just a lover. When two souls are mated, not only is a bond formed; the two souls merge, becoming one. One soul, shared in two bodies.”

Linhardt, uncharacteristically interested, had raised his hand. “What does that mean, Professor?” he asked. “If the two souls are one, then surely…”

Hanneman nodded. “There are experiences the two people involved will share, experiences that are normally private.”

“Like what?” Annette asked, leaning forward.

“Pleasure,” Hanneman replied, prompting a few giggles from his audience. “Strong emotional reactions. Pain.” 

The laughter had faded then.

“You may have heard the expression that ‘pain shared is pain halved’ - as far as soulmates go, this is incorrect.” Hanneman’s voice had been stern, the most serious Felix had ever heard him. “What one member of a pair feels, the other will also. If one is cut down, the other will fall.”

“It’s… amplified,” Linhardt said, fascinated.

“Indeed.”

“And what happens should one partner die before the other?” That had been Hubert, steering the conversation in as morose a direction as possible - as usual. 

Hanneman had stood silent for several moments, something sad in his eyes. “I believe you can answer that question for yourself, Hubert.”

That had been the end of that particular lecture; no one had wished to continue the discussion save Linhardt, and even he had looked a little hesitant after Hubert’s question. 

Felix hadn’t been upset at this new discovery. If anything, he’d been angry.

The last thing he wanted was to be... to be _bound_ to someone, his life dependent on theirs. It was a liability - a weakness. 

If someone wanted to injure him in a fight, all they would have to do is attack his soulmate. Bring them down, and surely he would fall as well.

He hated it. 

This wasn’t something he could train for, some lack of skill that he could overcome. Nor did he have any say in who his eventual partner would be - someone who knew how to fight? Someone who didn’t? It was completely out of his control. Another reason to despise crests - the lack of control over his own destiny just one more thing to chalk up to the blood flowing through his veins. 

“I don’t know why you hate the concept so much,” Sylvain had confided in him once. “You’ve got a major crest, Felix - surely you’re destined for someone special.”

“Why?” Felix had demanded. “Why do I deserve that?”

Sylvain had blinked away Felix’s enmity. “Do you think you don’t?”

“I don’t think anyone deserves something they don’t earn.”

Luckily for Felix, it wasn’t a problem he’d had to deal with thus far. 

When Mercedes was happy, Annette got jubilant - more so than usual, even. When Hilda took a blow meant for Claude, Marianne staggered.

Felix felt… nothing.

No pain.

No joy.

He didn’t know what that meant. 

Hanneman said that most people became aware of their soulmate’s exist around the same time they came of age. By his calculations, Felix’s soulmate should have presented themselves by now. The fact that they hadn’t was a problem that had left Hanneman most intrigued. He kept inviting Felix to come to his office, not able to decide whether he’d rather study or interrogate him.

Felix rebuffed these attempts; he didn’t care what the reason behind his missing soulmate was, and he didn’t particularly feel compelled to find out. Every day he went without experiencing someone’s emotions or suffering was another day he had without having to deal with a soulmate. One more day he got to rely solely upon himself. One more day without any weakness but his own. 

It allowed him to focus on other, more important things: training, his swordsmanship, whether or not he could best the professor in a duel. He was getting close now; he could feel it. Her skills with a sword were better than his, her senses in a fight heightened from her years as a mercenary - but he was nothing if not determined. 

He would best her one day - he was sure of it.

She’d been spending a lot of time with Rhea lately, preparing for the ceremony that would allow her to speak with the goddess. It hadn’t left her with much freedom in her schedule, and she’d had to push back their usual sparring sessions. Felix didn’t resent her for it; she seemed as put off by the idea as him, but Rhea was insistent. 

Soon things would go back to normal. She’d promised.

But then Edelgard had revealed herself as the Flame Emperor and the Imperial army had attacked the monastery, and everything had gone to shit. 

“This won’t be like sparring,” the professor told him in the moments before the enemy reached the walls. “This battle will be real.”

He’d scoffed. “I know that,” he snapped. He wasn’t a child.

She stared back at him with a knowing gaze. “Do you?” 

Something in her voice gave him pause, the hot retort dying on his lips.

She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder in an uncharacteristic gesture of affection. “Come and find me afterwards,” she instructed. “When all’s said and done. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“What if we lose?”

She hesitated - one of the only times he’d seen her do so.

“We can’t.”

A true assessment, not a blind, hope assertion they would win. Felix had always liked that about her; she didn’t sugarcoat things, and she didn’t beat around the bush. Her judgments were cool, logical, based on what available evidence there was.

And so he nodded and went off to defend one of the gaps in the defenses, Sylvain at his left and Ingrid at his right. Together, they fought to keep the Imperial soldiers from gaining a foothold in the monastery; slash, parry, hack, pivot. It had been a dance - a deadly dance, where one wrong step could have gotten any one of them killed. 

They were lucky that night - all of them. The Blue Lions had suffered only minor injuries, and Mercedes was able to patch them up without incident.

The Church of Seiros, on the other hand, had not been.

Felix remembered little of the frantic retreat into the monastery, and even less of the struggle to get out before the Empire’s forces burst through the gates. Sylvain had been there, rushing him along dark corridors long unused. Ingrid too, the bag of necessities she had been the only one of them to think to prepare slapping against her back as she sprinted towards safety.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asked, once they’d pushed out onto the plains, heading for the safety of the forest to the north. “Where’s the professor?”

He had to see her again - she'd had something to tell him. 

She was back there still, he knew it; the thought of her falling was inconceivable.

“There’s no time, Felix,” Ingrid shot back. “We have to trust that she was able to get the rest of them to safety.”

“Come on,” Sylvain urged, two steps ahead of them, his family’s relic held out in front of him as if it would shield them from danger. “We have to keep moving.”

Felix bit back his anger and kept on, running as fast as his tired legs would carry him. 

They’d just reached the edge of the woods when a roar went up from behind him. The three of them looked back in time to see a monstrous form leap down from the battlements, attacking the foul beasts the Empire had brought with them as instruments of war. One went down, and then two, three - the dragon was strong, stronger than any creature had any right to be.

“What is that?” Sylvain asked, awed. “Is that…” 

“Lady Rhea,” Ingrid murmured. Her voice had an almost reverent quality that made Felix uneasy. “It has to be. She always said she would protect the monastery…”

“She’s outnumbered,” Felix told them. “She can’t win.”

As if on cue, the beasts rushed the dragon, enough of them attacking at once that their sheer weight forced the other creature to its knees. It let out a terrible cry, taking a savage bite at one, swiping at another with a massive paw.

“No!” Ingrid cried, taking a half-step forward. “Get up - fight!”

Sylain dragged her back. “Don’t, Ingrid - you can’t.”

“But-”

“You can’t help her now.”

But someone could. 

Something surged up in Felix as he watched the professor sprint towards the fray, the Sword of the Creator in her hands. He wasn’t sure what the exact feeling was - pride, joy, hope, _want._ It washed over him like a wave, leaving him almost trembling in anticipation as he waited for her to get close enough to strike.

She fought like a hurricane, lashing out and freeing the dragon with a few strikes of her blade. The beasts were knocked back, some dissipating like smoke as they succumbed to their injuries. 

Good - she was so _good._ He envied her almost as much as he admired her - that skill with a sword wasn’t just something she’d honed over the years. It was something innate, some intrinsic ability that few would ever be able to match. 

He hoped, one day, he’d get to be a part of that select group.

If she had been his soulmate, he thought, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. He wouldn’t have to worry about her in a fight; she could protect herself, better than most people. If he had someone like _her_ guarding his back, sharing the other half of his soul and keeping it safe - he could live with that. 

The thought was so sudden, so sharp that he’d gasped. 

It wasn’t a sound he usually made, and his friends turned to him in surprise. So they didn’t see - they didn’t see what happened as the tides turned and the professor was hit with a spell. They didn’t witness her fall backwards as the ground beneath her feet gave way. They didn’t see it when she fell into the abyss.

But Felix did. 

And it wasn’t until he felt the phantom sensations ghosting along his limbs, the pain of something hitting him, or him hitting something, the rush of air in his ears that he realized the timely truth.

_Oh._

_Oh, fuck._

Then the pain had become unbearable, and everything went black.

* * *

Upon waking, the first thing he realized was that he was no longer in a forest - or anywhere near Garreg Mach. He was in a bed, surrounded by soft down pillows and covered in several thick, warm quilts. 

The second thing he realized was that he ached - everywhere.

He groaned, putting a hand to his head. 

A chair scraped, and someone was at his side, handing him a glass of water. Sylvain - he recognized the gauntlet encasing the other’s wrist, and his steady, even footfalls as he’d walked across the room.

He took the water without comment, forcing down a few mouthfuls before setting it aside. 

“Tell me what happened.”

Sylvain sighed. “Hello to you too, Felix,” he said, taking a seat on the bed. 

Felix scowled. 

“You’ve been out for two days, you know - after you passed out in the woods.”

That explained the bed - and why they were so far from the monastery. Two days was a long time to be out of it. 

“We found some horses just across the border of Faerghus - the battle must’ve spooked them. Lucky for you, you were with two of the best equestrians in Faerghus,” Sylvain quipped, winking. 

Felix didn’t dignify that with a response.

“We managed to convince a couple of them we meant them no harm. Took us a couple of days to get you here, though,” Sylvain continued. “You were completely out of it - Ingrid was near tears a couple of times, trying to get you to stay on the horse.”

He went quiet at that, confusion and guilt warring within him. 

He hadn’t meant to faint like that. He hadn’t even seen it coming. But there had been so much pain, so much fear clawing at his senses - and none of it had been his. 

He did have a soulmate - after all those years of thinking he hadn't. And of all people, it was the _professor._

It had been so sudden a realization, almost like he'd thought it into existence; he’d not even had time to process it before he’d fallen. He’d never realized, never felt anything - but then the professor was known for having a flat affect, and she’d once told Felix she didn’t seem to feel things as strongly as other people did. The only reason he’d felt her when he had was because she’d _fallen off a fucking cliff_.

And when was the last time any of them had seen her seriously injured? 

_Injuries._

Felix put a hand to his chest, looking down at his body. Someone had changed his clothes, and set his weapons off to the side. He was clad in only a loose shirt and leggings. But there were no bandages that he could see; no scratches, or cuts, or bruises. The heavy soreness in his limbs was the only indication that anything had happened at all.

He’d been asleep for two days, his body needing time to recover. But two days wouldn’t have erased severe injuries, and healing magic left traces you could feel for some time afterwards.

He was… fine. Which meant-

“Hey.” 

Sylvain looked unusually solemn, fidgeting with a stray thread on one of the quilts. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what,” Felix asked flatly.

“Felix, she’s-” Sylvain huffed, abandoning the string to give Felix his full attention. “The professor fell off a cliff,” he said softly. “She was your soulmate. I know you’re not big on talking about these things, but-”

“She’s not dead.”

Sylvain blinked. “What?”

Did he have to spell it out for his friend?

“I’m still alive,” he said, frowning. 

“So-”

“If she were dead, I would be too.”

Sylvain winced, though he didn’t deny this logic. “Are you sure? I mean… that’s a pretty long fall, and no one found a body afterwards. They searched, Felix - we saw Ashe in town yesterday, and he said-”

“He’s right.”

The both of them looked up to see Ingrid in the door, a bowl of something that smelled delicious in her hands. Felix’s stomach gave an embarrassing growl at the scent, and he flushed, flinging a hand over the offending area as if that would shut it up. 

Ingrid smiled. “Here,” she said, coming to offer Felix the meal. “I’ll go back and get another.” 

Felix didn’t think he’d ever tasted a stew so good. He dug in with gusto, letting Ingrid take over explaining things to Sylvain.

“Didn’t you listen to Hanneman’s lectures?” Sylvain gave her an impish grin, and she sighed. “It’s been well documented that when soulmates die unexpectedly - like in a battle, or because of an accident - the partner dies as well. The theory is that the soul rends, and it’s too sudden for the other person to adapt.”

“Their body can’t handle the strain,” he guessed.

“Exactly,” Ingrid said, nodding. She turned to Felix. “So if Felix is alive… it stands to reason that the professor is as well.”

“But… _how?_ ” 

None of them had an answer for that. 

They discussed it at length for several hours - well, Sylvain and Ingrid did. Felix threw in an occasional comment, and answered their questions when he could, but the truth of the matter was that it didn’t matter. He was alive - and so was she. 

She would come back to them, too. He was sure of it.

But if the Empire knew that she’d survived the fall…

“No one can know about this.”

Ingrid and Sylvain grew quiet, turning to look at Felix.

“No one can know she’s alive,” he said again, fixing the both of them with his most pointed stare. 

“But think of the hope that would give Dimitri-” Ingrid began.

Felix cut her off. “I don't give a damn about that,” he said sharply. “You can’t tell anyone - and especially not Dimitri.”

She huffed, ready to argue, when Sylvain put a hand on her arm.

“Felix has a point,” he said, voice quiet and thoughtful. He looked up at Felix, frowning. “We heard that the Empire took Lady Rhea captive, and who knows what happened to the other senior members of the Church.”

“The professor isn’t a part of the Church,” Ingrid snapped.

“No, but Edelgard was obsessed with her,” Sylvain shot back. 

“She-” Ingrid paused, thinking. “She was, wasn’t she? I once overheard her telling Dimitri that she was jealous the professor had chosen our house.”

Sylvain nodded. “If Edelgard discovers the professor is alive, she’ll try and find her.”

Ingrid slumped, dejected. “Then what do we do?” she asked. “We need her - you both know it.”

Sylvain took a breath. “We go home,” he said simply. “We go home, and fight as best as we can until she comes back.”

Home.

Felix hated his home. He had ever since Glenn had died, and a home had become a tomb. 

But Sylvain was right; Edelgard would take the fight to Faerghus eventually, and their families were among the country’s strongest defenders. IF they were to have any home of defending the country, they needed to consolidate their strength during what little time they had. Much as he hated the thought, they needed to go north. 

“So now we just… wait?”

They both looked to Felix at Ingrid’s question, as if he would have the answer. Surprisingly, he thought he did.

“We wait.”

* * *

And wait they did - for five whole years, and what seemed like half a lifetime.

It was the eve of the Millennium Festival, when they had all agreed to reconvene at Garreg Mach, when they heard that the professor and the man who’d once been their prince were fighting bandits just outside the monastery. Felix didn’t doubt the news for a second when Ashe burst into the tavern in an excited frenzy, Gilbert just behind him.

Not when he felt adrenaline that wasn’t his own coursing through his veins.

Something was different now; he could feel it. 

The professor - no, Byleth, as he forced himself to think of her now - had been gone for five years. He hadn’t felt a single thing during that time, no hint betraying her presence. 

That had changed, about an hour ago. He’d written it off at being antsy about being back here, about seeing his classmates again. The war had changed all of them, and not necessarily for the better. It would be normal to be feeling a little apprehensive. But then he’d realized that he was _calm,_ for once, not anxious.

It wasn’t _him_ who was nervous.

Ashe’s announcement had come not five minutes later, and then Felix was out the door, Sylvain and Ingrid hot on his heels. 

When they finally came upon the bandits, Dimitri and Byleth were already attacking their flank, lance and sword flashing in the moonlight. Annette and Mercedes were running in from their right, Ashe and Gilbert coming in from the left. 

She smiled when she saw them, and Felix _stared._

She hadn’t changed - not one bit. 

She looked exactly the same as the last time he’d seen her, fire and steel and blazing light. 

Light on her feet, she dodged out of a bandit’s path, snaking her sword around to attack him from the back. With a cry, he fell, but she’d already turned to the next foe, dancing out of the path of his axe before lunging in with a strike of her own. 

Beautiful. She was so fucking beautiful, it hurt to look at her for very long.

He snorted at the thought, falling into a stance of his own as the bandits noticed the arrival of three more people to the fight. What an odd thing to think, at a time like this.

The fight was over in half an hour, the bandits no match for warriors of their skill. None of them had taken serious injuries, and in their joy at seeing one another again, their fatigue fell by the wayside. Dimitri alone seemed subdued, wrapped up in his own tumultuous thoughts, but even he couldn’t damper their spirits entirely. 

“Shall we go back to the monastery?” Ashe suggested. “Maybe the monks left something behind for us to celebrate the professor’s return!”

“Ashe! Are you suggesting we scour the monastery for _booze_?” Annette asked.

Ashe gave a nervous laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way-”

“I’m in,” Sylvain said, slinging an arm around the much shorter man’s shoulder. 

“Me too!”

“Where do we start looking?” 

“Well, I’d imagine the kitchens are our best bet…”

Their voices trailed off as they started walking down the road back towards Garreg Mach, Mercedes and Ingrid striking up a quieter conversation behind them. 

Byleth remained behind, having a private word with Gilbert - about Dimitri, no doubt, and the prince’s troubling antics during the fighting. She glanced up at Felix, eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise - as if she hadn’t known he’d stayed behind. 

As if he would be anywhere else.

“We should discuss it more later,” she agreed, turning back to Gilbert to give him a final nod.

He dipped his head in a sign of respect. “I look forward to it. My thanks for your time, professor.” 

And then he too was gone, and it really was just the two of them.

For a moment, all either of them could do was stare. Their gazes were bold, eyeing every curve and angle of the other, drinking in every color and texture and line. 

“You’ve changed,” she murmured, voice soft.

Felix snorted. “You haven’t.”

It was comforting, in a way - more than he wanted to admit. Everything else had gone to shit, but Byleth was the same as ever. Unchanged, undaunted. 

She took a step closer, one hand resting on the pommel of the second sword she carried at her hip - for comfort as much as anything, it seemed. 

“Did you know?”

She froze, eyes wide, but she didn’t question what he meant. “I knew,” she admitted. 

“How?”

“Our sparring sessions,” she replied. “I could feel it when you lost - your anger, your frustration.” 

He scowled; she hardly needed to have been his soulmate to have picked up on _that_. He was well aware he wore his emotions on his sleeve, had them written all over his face, and so was she. So was _everyone._

“And whenever I scored a hit, I felt you.” She took another step forward, reaching for him. Slowly, so he could move away if he wanted, she put a hand to his side. “I’d hit you there.” She raised her other hand, laying it just beneath her rib cage. “And I’d feel it here.” 

That made more sense; he’d yet to beat her in a bout, and more often than not, he’d finish their duels lying flat on his back, shrugging off the bruises he knew he’d later have.

But-

“You never said anything.”

He hated how petulant it sounded. 

She laughed at that, though it didn’t sound particularly happy. “What would I have said, Felix?” 

He didn’t know. And even if she had spoken up, he wasn’t certain he’d have believed her. 

“I didn’t want you to feel… beholden to me. I was your _teacher,_ Felix, Goddess. I’d planned to tell you after you had finished the term, because you deserved to know. What you decided to do with it was your decision. But then, things… happened.”

“You fell off a cliff.”

She winced. “I know.”

“And then you were gone for five years-”

“I know!” 

Felix blinked in surprise. It was rare for her to get so heated - rarer still for her to snap back at him. He’d struck a nerve, it seemed.

He frowned, circling back to something she’d said. “What I decided to do with it,” he murmured. “What does that mean?”

The frustration faded from her face as she looked up, head tilting to the side. “What it sounds like,” she said. When he didn’t reply, she added, “It’s your decision, Felix - soulmates or not, if you don’t want this, then I don’t want it either.” 

It went against everything he’d ever been taught - rejecting a soulmate if you didn’t want them. Those with crests were gifted with soulmates, they were _blessed -_ rejecting that gift was tantamount to throwing it back in the face of the Goddess. Blasphemy, some would say, of the highest order. 

Byleth didn’t seem like she gave a damn.

He’d never even considered that that was an option.

In hindsight, he felt so _stupid_ \- because of course it was still his decision to make. He didn’t have to be with someone he wanted nothing to do with. Regardless of what the church said, regardless of what his father said, he had a choice. It was his to make and no one else’s.

Except Byleth. 

This revelation hit him like a ton of bricks, and were Byleth not next to him, her presence as steadying and solid as it always had been, he might have had to sit down. 

“Felix?”

His eyes snapped back to her, intent. 

“You don’t have to make that decision now, you know.”

He scowled. “I know that.”

“I imagine Dimitri will want to go to war, now that we’re all together again. It might be better to wait, in any case.”

In case one of them didn’t make it. 

In case one of them didn’t want this.

...did he want this?

To be honest, Felix didn’t have any fucking clue; five years had passed since he’d first discovered this truth. In the time since, he’d come no closer to understanding his feelings about it at all. Much as he hated talking about this sort of thing, that’s exactly what he’d needed, and not with just anyone - with Byleth, the one person with whom he couldn’t talk. He needed to decide what exactly it was he felt, and then ask if she felt the same. 

They still needed to have that conversation. Whatever… _this_ was, this moment they were caught up in, it wasn’t that.

The idea that she was here again was still too new.

And what of her? It went both ways, he thought, what she wanted as important as his own desires. She didn't... seem put off by the idea of being his soulmate, but then again, it had always been difficult to tell with her. 

She finally, _finally_ moved her hand away from his side, maybe because he’d not spoken again, and Felix felt strangely bereft. Why was that, he wondered? Because she was his soulmate? Or because she was her, and here, and he didn’t much care for the thought of her leaving again? 

Before he could think too much of it, he caught her wrist, holding it tight.

“Will you stay?”

She nodded. “I already regret being away for so long.”

That wasn’t what he meant - not entirely. He said as much, and Byleth smiled in that knowing way she had.

“I’m not going anywhere, Felix.” 

He nodded. “Good.”

She adjusted his grip, moving so that his fingers twined with hers instead of circling her wrist. “We’re in this to the end now, I think - whatever that end might be.” She squeezed, a gentle, comforting pressure against his hand. 

_To the end._

He squeezed her hand back. 

They would face this war together, and after… well, they’d cross that particular bridge when they got there.

Felix would hold her to that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) And happy last day of Felileth week!


End file.
